Page 22 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

My eyes flew up the stairs, brows furrowing with deep creases between them as I contemplated what to do. Should I go up there and see for myself why she was wasting my time? Or should I just keep waiting until she was done?

I smoothed my perfectly combed hair backward, my jaw clenching, my chest heaving with slow breaths. I hated the feeling of waiting and doing absolutely nothing.

Our first public appearance as a couple was supposed to be tonight, and thanks to her tardiness, we were going to be late. No one would dare object, not even after a few drinks, but I valued my reputation for punctuality, and those who knew me were well aware of that.

Frustrated, I swiped a palm across my face, checking my watch again—it felt like I'd been waiting for an eternity. A scowlflashed across my face, and I gritted my teeth, looking up the stairs.

There still was no sign of her—no clicking of heels and not even a fleeting scent of her feminine perfume.

“Dear God.” I rubbed my eyeballs, and my head lowered as I struggled to contain the vexation coursing through my veins.

Five more minutes; that was how long I was going to wait for her. After that, I'd go upstairs and drag her by the wrist myself. However, for now, I needed to occupy my mind with something less annoying.

However, she was all that I could think of at that moment. It was like the more I waited, the more my thoughts became consumed by her. How long before I lost my self-control and claimed her as mine?

Each passing day made it harder to resist her charms. She effortlessly drew me in like a moth to a flame, tempting me in every way. Her beauty was a siren call, luring me in with its irresistible allure.

Holding it together was slowly killing me—it felt torturous to be near her without being able to hold her, to feel her body against mine. She was mine, and I didn't need anyone's permission to take her, to claim her body. But what good would that be if she wasn't into it herself?

She saw me as a monster, and indeed I was—to most people. But contrary to her opinion of me, I had a concern, and that conscience was the reason I wouldn't take advantage of her. I was a principled man who understood boundaries, and so regardless of how much I wanted her, I respected her body and her decision.

As ruthless as I was, there were lines that I just wouldn't cross, no matter what. This was one of them.

My eyes drifted to the wall clock, bringing me back to reality. Her five minutes were up; it was time for me to takematters into my own hands. I'd played by her rules long enough already.

I ascended the stairs with more haste and less speed, seething in silence. I wasn't sure what I'd do once I got to the room, but at least I'd have an idea of how much longer her preparations would take.

Halting by the doorway of our bedroom, my eyes widened slightly, and my brows arched in a mix of fascination and surprise. My wife was all dressed up in a stunning black gown that hugged her in the right places.

She stood elegantly balanced on one leg, one foot resting on a wooden chair as she reached to adjust her heel. The position seemed harmless enough, but the daring slit in her dress suggested otherwise. The fabric parted to reveal her thighs—fresh, smooth, and alluring.

Her exposed skin caught my eyes, drawing my attention like steel to a magnet. For a moment there, my mind went utterly blank, and I struggled to process the sight. I felt a sudden jolt of desire, my body responding instinctively to the sensual image before me.

I could feel my erection in my pants, slow and gentle, as I stood in silence, unable to tear my gaze off her. A flame lit up within me, sending heat waves all over my body, and my thoughts were a jumbled mix of illicit images.

Mesmerized by her allure, I forgot to breathe, forgot to think—hell, I even forgot why I was here in the first place. All I could do was stare at this vision of perfection before me.

Once done with her heels, she straightened, and that was when our eyes met. I watched her breath cease for a moment, a glint of shock flickering in her gaze.

It was then that my brain kicked back into gear, and I realized that I'd been standing there, frozen in place, for who knew how long.

As she held my gaze, her hands discreetly moved to her back, where she wrestled with the zipper of her gown. A deadly silence filled the room, and even though she didn't ask for help, I knew she needed it. She just let her pride get in the way.

I cleared my throat, trying to play it cool as I stepped forward, my eyes roaming her body and drinking in the sight of her beauty.

Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders as her eyes, sparkling in the lights, bore into mine. The sleek black gown accentuated her curves and contours, its color complementing her eyes.

I towered over her, watching her chest rise and fall, her hands struggling at her back. The sweet scent of her perfume swirled around us, tension crackling in the air. Yet, neither of us said a word until I broke the silence. “Turn around.” My tone was laced with finality, leaving no room for arguments.

She squinted, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, before doing as instructed.

As Tessa slowly turned her back to me, I was hit by the elegant and sexy line of her spine, a gentle curve that seemed to invite my touch. The fastened bra straps stood out against her smooth skin.

Something else caught my attention: a thin, intricate design that ran down the curve of her back. The delicate tattoo was a stark contrast to her innocence, but it only accentuated her allure.

My gaze lingered on the design, appreciating its simplicity before my eyes fell on the dimples at the base of her spine.

Without a word, I reached out and gently grasped the zipper, my fingers brushing against her soft, smooth skin. I could feel her body subtly trembling at my touch, and my heart raced with anticipation.

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